Title: Why Hasn't This Brought Up, Yet?
A/N: Because I just wanted to write this, okay? Gah I know, I shall go for hellfire for this but goddamn it, Sadie is hot and I'd ship anybody with her.
Drabble 1: Making Love
Sadie is sleeping, the spine stretching and contracting, the blade-like ridges of her back rising up and down, her skin strangely bronze and fire under the gleam of the heat radiating from the torches perched near the windows. While her face is set in peace, and her reddish-blonde hair is sprawled from her chin to her shoulders, her equally feverish fingers are intertwined with his.
Her soul probably wandering in Ma'at, Carter shifts against the uncomfortable headdress so that when he does go to sleep, eventually, he won't have any disturbing visions that involve rescuing the world, or, you know, his parents. At least, for one night. He hopes.
They're both nude, he realizes. The thought hits him rather slowly, despite their respective underwear being flung about in the farthest corners of her room and the bed sheets soaked with sweat and other things.
Khufu is going to kill them tomorrow morning.
But that is not what he wants to think about, right now. All that's running through his head is a statement, so carelessly and incoherently murmured, he barely caught snatches of it. Before she drifted off into the twilight of sleep, she said,
"Maybe we should get married," and thereafter his brain halted processing. (Or even considering going to sleep.)
It wasn't a question of love, really. Since she was the Nut to his Gab, Isis to his Osiris, and- he's getting tired of the fucking clichés, okay? It was more of a question of… Science. Like acceptance by modern society and etc. More like hiding it from everyone while trying to save the world, with two loudmouth gods residing in their bodies.
Tiny little problems like that.
And even though a tiny little voice that sounded like Toth snickered, 'Mental retardation.' he had to admit, their babies would be pretty cute. But then he slaps his forehead (not too loudly) and he shakes himself out of his misery. There's a fucking immortal serpent out there. Not to mention a freaking god of death who still harboured feelings for her and oh, god, Zia.
He isn't supposed to be awake. He isn't supposed to fucking think so much. He is supposed to be happy knocked out right now, spooning her and dreaming about her and their cute, mentally retarded babies, or something.
A tiny moan escaped from behind him. He sighed and angled his body closer to her, now that her Ba's returned, the nightmares are going to follow suit soon. There will be no comfort in his arms, he knew it, but she needed him to be there, when she woke up, and he's glad to be of help.
After all, they just made love.